Of Muggle and Magic
by Two Thousand Is A Lot
Summary: He was the past, and she, the future. His betrayal made her run away, but in doing so, she had found a part of herself she had long forgotten. She's learned to be both Muggle and magic. And maybe now, she's ready to reconcile the past with the future
1. A Perfect Day

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all affiliated characters, places, and objects are owned by J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Chapter 1: A Perfect Day

It happened during my favorite time of year.

I still remember the coolness of the autumn breeze against my face and the nearly tangible crispness of the air. Dressed in subtle orange hues with accents of brown, the leaves had been savoring their last remnants of color before winter had to take them away. The sky had been clear though nimbus clouds could have been seen forming just over the horizon, signaling rain the next day. Closing my eyes, I could still see the glittering specks in the painted black ocean of quiet that were the billions of stars of that night.

Looking back, it was as if the cosmos was there to be my audience, serene but critically assessing me. I had felt all of nature carrying me with it; and magic, not just of wizardry, but of Creation itself permeating my bones.

I was in love then. And the universe knew.

* * *

_Tired after what seemed like hours of dancing, I was resting against the railings of the restaurant balcony. The place was quaint, its décor simple. It had the image of a home I'd always want to return to. I liked to think it was made just for me, but it was simply charmed to look that way, I was told. Other guests saw their own comforting images that made them want to go back here too. It was an illusion, though one I never decried against._

_I was roused from my light-headedness by a touch to my arm. I turned to look at him._

_"Hermione," Draco whispered, "would you like to have dessert?"_

_I took one last look at Creation and sighed._

_"Okay. Shall we?"_

_He took my arm and I smiled up at him. For such a strong woman, I liked being protected in understated ways – like his arm around my person while we walked side by side. It was a secret only I knew; Draco thought I was merely indulging his Pureblood etiquette, and I was not one to tell him otherwise. He guided me to my chair while I was still thinking about being a proper "lady". Not a long while later, menus appeared before us. However, I had already decided what I wanted for dessert long before we even arrived at the restaurant._

_I turned to our server and ordered, "Bread pudding please, with the vanilla cream. Thanks."_

_Draco rolled his eyes at me then. He ordered their newest offering, something exotic with a supposed Southeast Asian flair. It was typical of him, as it was typical of me to order the pudding. He never failed to try the new fare. He took risks with his food, and I think with his life in general, as well. He was never one to stick with something plain and safe. He liked to know if there were good things out there, something worth more than what he already had. He didn't believe in ever being able to get the best. He was sure that if he dared enough, something better would always appear. I was, in contrast, safe. I knew what I liked and what I didn't. I never tried things that seemed to be similar to ones I disliked before. I wasn't one to settle either, but I never challenged myself the way he did. No, I tried different things that I already knew I'd like. I would do this repeatedly until I finally got something I was sure I loved. After that, like my bread pudding, I would stick with it forever._

_A peace settled between us, apparently in mimicry of the outside I had just pondered at before._

_"Hermione." I looked up. "I have something to tell you."_

_I furrowed my brows at his tone of seriousness. I looked out towards the night again for reassurance. It was still quiet. It had kept its stillness, purposely it seemed. But whether in anticipation or anxiety, I knew not. I turned back to Draco and nodded for him to continue._

_He was silent and uneasy for no more than ten seconds before he began. That was all that was necessary for me to know, though, that my heart would somehow fall victim that night._

_"I've been seeing someone else."_

_It was only with the tightening of my grip that I noticed our hands clasped together over the table. I was shaking and I could feel my heart throbbing wildly as if trying to prove that it was not, in fact, irreparably broken. I knew I was angry, shocked – maybe. Hurt, disgust, and betrayal, I felt also as piercingly. But all the emotions struggling in me made me lose my proper bearings and control of my senses. As evidence, this was my reply:_

_"Oh."_

_He started to speak again, but then stopped when I lowered my head to look at the table instead. My hold on him slackened, I was still, and my heart slowed. The intensity of just a few milliseconds ago disappeared, replaced by hesitant tears forming in my eyes._

_"Who is she?" I asked meekly, afraid to acknowledge the voice that was mine._

_"I–" he began, but paused when he saw me shaking my head. "Astoria Greengrass."_

_"She's Senior Vice-President of Marketing for the company, isn't she?" I was surprised at the affability of my tone. I could only guess that he was taken aback as well._

_"Yes," he said._

_"Since when?"_

_"Please don't–"_

_"When?"_

_"A few months ago." His tone was uneven and weary; he was lying._

_"Before Christmas," I replied, not needing his assent to know I had been right._

_And then my last question:_

_"Who knows?"_

_"Hermi–"_

_"Answer, please."_

_He sighed, defeated, before saying, "Most of the executives in the office, my friends, and my parents. They all know."_

_The relationship I had valued the most had crumbled, while it appeared that all I was able to do was shake my head and utter two-worded statements. Needless to say, I was dazed, less due to his infidelity than my own stoniness._

_My tears had begun falling sometime in the middle of our exchange. I let them fall. I was comforted by the sight of the trails of salty droplets on the table. They were proof that I was hurt, even though my head was forcing me to act otherwise. When I curled my fingers, I was surprised to find both of my hands resting in my lap. I didn't think I would be able to let go so soon._

_With resolve, I wiped the tears from my cheeks though I was certain I hadn't run out of them yet._

_I finally looked up at Draco._

_"Okay," I said. There was hurt in my voice and I was audibly strained, but he was too shocked by my one-word reaction to say anything to comfort me. I stood up, and he would have followed my motion if it had not been for a stilling hand from me. "I don't think I have room for dessert, so please send my apologies to the chef for the trouble. Dinner was lovely. This restaurant always lightens my mood. Here's my share of the bill. Thank you, I enjoyed the evening very much."_

_With those words, I turned to go. But that same touch to my arm made me pause again. This time, I didn't look at him though. With my back still to him, I responded. "No, please don't get up. I can go home by myself, and it's such a beautiful night that I think I'd like to be alone for a while. I apologize for my abruptness, but dinner truly was lovely. Goodnight."_

_He dropped his hand, and then I left._

_Stepping out onto the street, I immediately removed my heels and started running to my flat, all the while, finally letting myself cry without the conscience of pride._

_The stars were still glowing bright, the breeze was still pleasantly murmuring, and the night itself was still as wonderful as when it began hours before. I, however, was different. My oneness with the cosmos was short-lived, for I could not appreciate how its beauty was making a mockery of my distress._

_We had started dating late last August. He'd been seeing her for almost as long as he'd been with me. I knew I should have been furious, but all I could muster were tears and self-pity. I had been confident in our relationship, especially because Lucius and Narcissa seemed to be supportive of it. Now though, it all made sense that they were only too happy to accept me. They had known that Draco would be with Astoria, while I was merely his to drag along for the ride._

_Thinking about all of this, though, I still had no ability to come up with the indignation that was clearly my right. I couldn't even fight for myself, let alone my relationship with him. And yet, it was my fighting spirit that made me refuse to look like a babbling idiot in front of him. Even with my senses all out of order, my vanity refused to let me shame myself. I did not want to be one of those many women in history who were incapacitated by their failures in love. It was this that made me so dispassionate during dinner._

_But I wondered briefly if I wasn't like them after all, especially when the pain rendered me powerless to feel._

_All throughout my life in the wizarding world, I had taught and told myself to be strong and independent. I could not let taunts of "Mudblood" make me feel inferior, and I most certainly could not let the Purebloods make me feel as if I did not belong. Deep inside, maybe this was how I treated Draco's betrayal, a Pureblood joke. Asking him to stay with me would show him how weak I was and how necessary his presence was for me to function. Showing him my weakness would only expose me to even more pain. Yet how he could have given me more pain, I was unsure of. He'd hurt me enough for me to know that I'd never feel worse._

_As a Muggle-born, I had to struggle and fight. Reading any History of Magic textbooks would prove this fact. But I had fought more for my relationship with Draco than for anything else. It wasn't even society I was fighting with, but myself. A part of me was certain that I would get hurt, but I was stubborn. I clung to every single good deed he did after the war just to prove that he was indeed worthy of me. I was selfish for wanting us to be together, but I wanted the magical world to look at me with more than just a sideways glance. I believed I deserved more, and being with Draco made me feel that way. I gained the respect of people who otherwise would have scoffed at my presence. I honestly had used Draco more than he could ever have used me. And maybe I was being punished because of that fact, or maybe he knew and thought I had never even loved him._

_That thought was deceptive though. Not only was it a lie, but it would only give me false hope to think that way._

_I was running faster than I ever had before, even when all of me was aching to stop. Apparently my body was also tired of all the fighting, but I pushed myself even more because of it. I needed to know I was strong; I needed to know I could survive. I forced adrenaline through me, so much so that the difference between the fight and flight responses became blurred. I was running away because I wanted to fight. I was running away because I could not let him think he won. I was running so I didn't have to succumb to the pain of staying and knowing how wrong and how idiotic I've been._

_Once again, I found myself looking up at the stars. For the first time in my life, I caught myself wishing that I had paid more attention in Divination. No doubt my stellar companions were warning me before of my ruinous fate. The universe had been telling me all night that I simply wasn't compatible with the setting, or the man for that matter. I had been looking at the night all wrong. It was not insulting me; I was insulting it for even believing I had a place in it._

_Draco needed someone who could be both weak and strong. He needed a woman who was unafraid of appearing vulnerable. The picture of Astoria Greengrass in my head fit the description perfectly. She had pushed away the machismo in Malfoy International and rose on her own merit. She could debate any of the executives in the boardroom, and I had often seen Draco and her arguing, with her winning many times. But at the same time, it was not hard to imagine her weak-kneed and doe-eyed at the mercy of her lover. She never would have let a strong corporate life invade any aspect of her personal relationships. Although both Draco and she were at fault for the disaster that caused my relationship's demise, I could not see her manipulating Draco into cheating on me. As ruthless as she was at work, she really was quite charming personally._

_I was incapable of truly blaming Draco too. I loved him still. And as misplaced as that love was, it gave him the benefit of the doubt._

_Still, a tradition of forthrightness within myself forced me to concede that Draco did love me, and just as much as I loved him, in fact. He had never meant to hurt me. His infidelity was not borne out of scorn or spitefulness, though it was only too easy to excuse it as such. No, I was certain Draco's discontent with our relationship was due to something I lacked. Not one to settle with mediocrity, he looked for another who could actually satisfy him. I could have hated him for his single-minded insensitivity, but the cloud of reason hanging over me was telling me that doing so would have merely been my defense mechanism against further responsibility._

_The blame was fully on my shoulders. I was the one who trusted unwisely. All my belief in my reasoning had led me to think that my judgment was infallible. I should have seen the signs. I should have been warier of taking our relationship further. But most of all, I should have let myself be weak._

_I had rarely let Draco see me as a woman, if I had ever let him at all. I never gave him a chance to guide me along like he was wont to do. He wanted to shield me from criticism and hate, but I was not one to shy away. Rather, I pursued and confronted all of the negativity that came my way. He wanted me to feel loved, and for me to willingly accept it. I had been suspicious though, and scared of anything offered freely. I didn't want him to dominate me either, so every decision in our relationship had to be fought through – tooth and nail. I had always been proud of this. But looking back, if I had let him have his way sometimes, without fighting him, maybe he wouldn't have seen it necessary to be with another woman, someone who could actually act like a woman._

_But irony of ironies was that at that very moment, I was the picture of female vulnerability. I was irrational, teary, and scared. Any knight would have seen me a prime catch for saving._

_But my knight was never there in the first place. He was too busy serving someone else. Or maybe he just grew tired of waiting for me. I wasn't quite sure anymore._

_I thought myself stupid for falling in too deep, but maybe I should have just let myself fall. I was too distracted by the consequences of any act to be able to just enjoy being with him. The one thing I loved the most was the one thing I could not even let myself fight for in the traditional sense. I was truly a fool._

_These thoughts ran through my mind, while my hair was lashing at me from the force of the wind and my run. Every part of me seemed to be punishing me. My legs were sore but refused to give way, making my dash torturous. My lungs were already out of air, but my brain controlled me to take shallower and shallower breaths. My heart was thrusting against my ribs feverishly, but it did not want to rest at all in its furious quest to pump life through me. My eyes were sore from all my crying, but they never did still the tears that came. My body was angry at me. It believed me worthy of punishment._

_I believed I was worthy of punishment. The universe thought me ridiculous. And Draco saw me as pathetic._

_It didn't occur to me then that I should have been relieved that I was no longer being cheated on. All I could think of was my shortcomings on everything. I needed to get away from the responsibility. I pushed reason to the back of my mind and let myself just feel the irrational emotions that were frantic to get through._

_I was being driven by pure instinct now. And instinct told me to run from the hurt._

_I arrived at my flat with my feet bruised and wounded, but I ignored the injuries. I had no time to clean myself up. I was quickly charming all of my clothing to fit in one suitcase. Thoughtless of matching my attire, I donned running shoes before leaving. And ignoring the driver's worried looks at my appearance, I hailed a cab.  
_

* * *

Within an hour of leaving the restaurant, I had already bought a ticket to Australia and was waiting in the lounge area of Heathrow. I stayed with my parents in Perth for a while. Knowing it was not magic I was running away from, but love, they never asked any questions. My mum would hug me tight now and then, and my Dad would smile at me as if saying that it all would pass. I was restless though, and after a week, I left to wherever my feet would carry me. I traveled around the world for a year. I never thought about him, that night, or the wisdom of my actions. I indulged in the illogic of my heart and took part in any momentary respite it wished for.

I kept contact with my parents, and through them, with Harry and Ron as well. They all understood and they never asked me to "go home". I eventually settled in Silicon Valley, San Francisco. I was pleasantly surprised by the growing magical community there. They were similar to the magical folk in Europe, but they appreciated the Muggle technology from the place too much to ever stray far from the non-magical lifestyle. It was the bridge connecting magic and Muggle.

Mum and Dad were quite happy that I was at a place where Muggles were respected. They never did voice their worries, but I knew they were afraid of me leaving my whole Muggle upbringing before. While I had been in London, a part of me grew to accept that the Muggle lifestyle could not simply keep up with my magic and that I had to sacrifice most, if not all, of my heritage. But staying in the Muggle technology hub made me realize how prejudiced I had become. I had taken it for granted that magic was better and Muggles were simply getting by. I was quickly cured of those thoughts.

American wizards and witches shared a colonial past with American Muggles, so there were very few who actually were Pureblood bigots. But even among the Purebloods, most considered a marriage to a talented and promising Muggle-born better than a marriage to a rich but simple-minded Pureblood. Their young history made the two cultures intertwine. A love for liberty and individualism grew from their hatred of oppression, and struggling for their freedom made them value self-made men and hard work. In the 20th century, this translated into making work more efficient and convenient.

With their closeness to the Muggles, the magical folk in Silicon Valley couldn't help but notice the ease of the modern Muggle lifestyle, so their interest was obviously piqued. I applied for a researching position in one of many start-ups in the community. The people there were all young, wide-eyed, and idealistic. Curiously, I fit right in. We worked on projects as mundane as magical fluorescent lighting, to inventions as futuristic as time-space turners. The American magical community, it seemed, was not impervious to the marvel that was Apollo 11 either.

After three years, we had become a Silicon Valley success story, and I, the proud Director for Research and Development of Graphel Inc.

(Though I didn't want to bore you with the details, I love my company enough to explain the name. It was inspired by Microsoft and Apple, two Muggle technology behemoths. Long explanation cut short, Microsoft used the name of something cutting-edge then, microchips, while Apple used something simple and common. Graphel is a combination of grapheme, which scientists say have a huge potential to better technology, and gravel, which is simply the ground we walk on. Basically, the Board wanted to instill in our clients the fact that our company will be the foundation for future technology. Genius I think, but not many people care, disappointingly enough.)

* * *

I've returned during, apparently, the worst and hottest time of the year.

Now I can only feel the humidity of summer against my face and the thickness of the exhaust pervading the air. The leaves are green and healthy, exuding an assuredness in life, as if unaware that there is such a thing as winter. The sky is blue, but knowing London, a light drizzle will surely be part of the afternoon. Inhaling the essence of the day, I could feel the sun cheerily egging on the hustle of the busy streets.

And here I am, wondering if this is the right time to be back. Here I am mulling over the events of four years ago, especially that night of my run.

I am anxious to Floo Harry and Ron, neither of whom have any idea of my homecoming. However, I am scared of seeing the patches left of my life back here. I don't know what to make of the press, and I don't know how to ignore the stares that will surely be coming my way.

Although I am here for work, it would be foolishly hopeful of me to think that I could still isolate myself from the past. I have to acknowledge that it will be catching up with me now that I am back. I have to take responsibility for my life, outside of work. True, I'm here to represent my company, but more than that, I'm here to present myself – changed, whole, and better.

With that reasoning, I entered the Leaky Cauldron with confidence and certainty, though I couldn't help but notice how I was worrying my engagement ring round and round my finger all the while.

* * *

A/N: Applause for my wonderful beta Mystical Spirits; without her, this fic would go nowhere. Also, I'd like to thank my Japanese friend who's unconscious encouragement made me pick up writing again, and my Social Science professor who was so boring that I had to do something else while he babbled on.


	2. The End Is Just a Beginning

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all affiliated characters, places, and objects are owned by J.K. Rowling.

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Chapter 2: And the End Is Just a Beginning

I looked around the pub that was the mainstay of my adolescent summers. It was clear almost nothing had changed. The tables were still arranged haphazardly, as if the management couldn't care less about seating customers properly. The windows were clean, but still charmed to let in as little sunlight as needed to give the place a dark, but non-dingy, feel. Even the old hags who sat quietly drinking their dubious smoking beverages stayed in the corners of the pub, just like I remembered. Strangely though, the familiarity felt uncomfortable. I did not expect the Leaky Cauldron to have changed much, but its total stagnation was truly disconcerting nonetheless.

I felt like an outsider. It was my knowing everything in the place so well that made me feel so alien. My familiarity made me a foreigner. The Leaky Cauldron that I was seeing now seemed to have sprung from memory, but it was a memory I had long left to the recesses of my mind. It was clear to me that it was no longer a part of who I was. And what is a foreigner, but a person whose real life is in some other place altogether?

I inspected everything more closely. I wanted to see something different and was trying to pinpoint any detail that my eyes didn't recognize. I found a notice board that wasn't ever there before. Apparently, the Leaky now served free coffee if you got drunk between the hours of 2 and 5am. There was also a poster for an up-and-coming band that would be playing this Friday, and below that, numerous forgotten advertisements of young talent that had played in the pub in the last few months. It was obvious the place was trying to attract younger patrons. But of all the differences I was able to note, I found the most interesting of all was Tom the barman napping on the counter.

I had only ever seen him awake, which was really quite something since I've passed through here at almost all hours of the day and night. I guess it was practical for him to be taking a siesta during this time though. Being wizarding London's lookout for the portal between Muggle and magic couldn't be easy, even though there were a multitude of charms cast to protect the place from prying Muggle eyes. This was the best time for him to sleep. He couldn't very well enjoy his slumber during the normal hours when shady people were keener on doing business under the cover of the night. Early morning to midday had him serving breakfast, brunch, and lunch to the folk staying in the Leaky's inn. Not to mention, there were also hordes of parents and children getting a bite to eat before beginning their day's shopping at Diagon Alley. The evening afforded him no rest, as there were even more customers to serve. And with all the entertainment he was hiring, he had more than his share of things to be worrying about.

Between 2 and 4pm, the pub was at its quietest. Most of the day's visitors had already passed through hours before. Potential Muggle intruders were busy finishing their day's toil, and occupants were more interested in either taking their naps or visiting the stores. Tom could finally relax.

I, of course, couldn't ask him for confirmation of any of my assumptions. And even if he were awake, I didn't really want to draw attention to myself when it was unnecessary to do so. But I admit I was itching to know whether there had ever been any Muggles who had ventured inside the pub.

I was reminded by my inner clock, however, that I had other matters to attend to. I would have to leave my curiosity unsatisfied for a while longer. Passing through the pub made me slightly distressed though. If just seeing the Leaky Cauldron again had already brought on so many conflicting thoughts, then I was sure being in Diagon Alley would be a chore.

I left the pub unnoticed and pressed the memorable brick wall in the pattern that was ingrained in me at age eleven. As expected, the summer brought a sea of people to the streets. I thanked my hair for being a common brown in the crowd, but I honestly didn't think looking more alluring would have mattered at all since most wizards and witches were usually only concerned with themselves and affairs that related to them.

Surprisingly, a wave of nostalgia hit me, and it carried with it a fondness for the place which I had kept at bay for a long time.

I lived in the wizarding district of San Francisco – in the unimaginatively named Magician's Avenue – so I had not forgotten the feel of magic itself, but the aura of Magician's Avenue was completely different to the atmosphere in Diagon Alley. The magical shops there had all screamed progressive to me, and had a running theme of chrome in their designs, while wizarding London was its complete antithesis.

Everything here was steeped in tradition and old English architecture, from Gothic to Victorian. The magic in San Francisco seemed novel and fresh. Like newly washed linen in the cabinet, it felt untouched and pure. London magic, in contrast, was anything but that. The enchantments that flowed through the streets and crackled in the air were ancient, but strangely enough, they didn't feel antiquated either. The magic culminating from all the years of London's wizardry was used up, though somehow it didn't become strained as centuries passed; from what I felt, it only made the magic stronger than before. I could easily understand how my first visit to Diagon Alley more than a decade ago made me love my magic.

I walked down the alley, captivated by all the wares. Far away from modern life, everything had a rustic appeal. Having been unable to read any British magic books, I was tempted by the window display at Flourish and Blotts. There were also two new shops that I found intriguing, Daedalus' Don'ts and Blow-and-Glow Bibelots, their whimsical names attracting me. Still, I needed to go to Gringotts first. I was a tad apprehensive, though, since Gringotts had less people to protect me from being seen.

I argued with myself briefly, mentally listing the pros and cons of going back to the Leaky Cauldron and using the Floo to call on Harry or Ron. Either of them surely would have dropped anything they were doing just to be able to talk with me face-to-face again.

I was a half-step from turning around when a hand grabbed my arm forcefully. On impulse, I tried to pull away, but I didn't really notice that my foot was still sort of intending to go in another direction. The next thing I knew, my bum was studying the hardness of the Diagon Alley concrete.

I heard the sound of laughter I knew quite well. Looking up, the slanted Chinese eyes confirmed my suspicions. When I thought being in Diagon Alley would be a chore, I didn't think it would include having to put up with him.

"Hermione! You really shouldn't just sit down on dirty streets, you know. It's your business if you want grime on your ass – oh sorry, I meant 'arse'—" he actually did the air quotes, "but people _do_ need the streets clear to be able to walk on them."

"Yes, I thought setting myself down in the middle of the street would be comfortable, so I just did it," I smiled sweetly at him.

"Just get up," he complained impatiently.

"Well, if someone really thought through the idea of grabbing another someone, who was peacefully walking down the street, mind you, then I wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," I accused. "What are you doing here anyway, Ly?"

He just stared at me while I was getting up. When he'd confirmed that both my feet were on the ground and I wasn't about to pull away, he began. "Sky was worried when you escaped from the hotel. And for your information, I was trying to pull you to a corner so we didn't have to have this conversation in the middle of the street," he rolled his eyes before continuing. "But I should have known you'd make this difficult."

Sky was, as usual, getting his nerves frayed for nothing, and Ly, as his best friend, thought it his duty to follow Sky's bidding. He was a constant pain on my side. He had nothing better to do than nag me to be more considerate of my future husband.

When everything was finally settled, I gestured for him to follow me and pointed to Gringotts so he was aware of where we were going. We walked into an exasperated silence. I was still sore about my fall, literally and figuratively, while he seemed to once again be annoyed with me for worrying Sky. If he wasn't so aggravating, I would have found his loyalty sweet.

He was closely following me with his eyes, ignoring the whole world outside the two of us. I really hated the feeling; he knew it too and he did it to annoy me further. The new setting didn't seem to daunt him from his purpose at all. Ly was so used to being an outsider that he reveled in it. Silently, I wished I possessed his confident countenance.

I stopped at the foot of the stately snow-white building belittling the stores that littered the district's noisy streets. Gringotts was still as pretentious as ever. I felt Ly gawk at the flamboyance of the wizarding bank.

In China, where familial ties are strong, it was the clan's responsibility to keep its treasures from thievery, with the family distrusting most outside intervention. Among most wizards and witches in the United States, it was acceptable to trust the Muggle banking corporations with wizarding affiliations. Only the most pompous of Purebloods there would have a Gringotts account, and it made them pretty much a sure target of big-time robbers.

Ly was understandably interested in the only true wizarding bank in the world, which was something he'd never seen before.

"So what exactly do they mean when they say, 'finding more than treasure there'?" referring to the inscription on the doors.

"Well, last time we were here as juvenile delinquents, they had charms to erase all of our concealments, a blind dragon which was supposed to chase us away to guard the vaults, and a number of curses that would sufficiently torture a thief before killing him."

"Wow, you Europeans really are afraid of getting looted huh?"

"I think we walk a fine line between overprotective and deranged. But most Pureblood families have looted their way through wealth anyway, so they're probably justifiably concerned about getting robbed right back. Hopefully the bank's taken more steps to rectify their security glitches, but from what I can tell, it's more terrifyingly safe than ever. If they hadn't fixed those problems, their Pureblood patrons would have taken all their treasures away. Although I can't be sure that's possible either, since only the goblins have access to the vaults, so they can just as easily keep the money and make the Purebloods penniless."

"Is it just me, or is it only common sense to think that trusting goblins with money is incredibly stupid, when wizard and goblin relations are still at an impasse?"

"Goblins are just as intelligent as people. Of course our relations with them would be at an impasse since most wizards treat them so lowly and negatively. The goblins don't make conciliatory gestures easy either though. Most of them have been raised to distrust us, so they're apt to see any deals made with us as being unfair to them somehow. Wizard and goblin agreements haven't been known to last, and the fact that Gringotts is still here is no small wonder in the history of goblins and wizards."

"And yet, knowing all of this, you still keep your money in a vault in the bank," he said pointedly.

He told me something I already knew. Even while in the States, I had continued to put a significant amount of money into my Gringotts account. There was only one branch in North America, and I had to travel far just to deposit anything, but I did it. He would frequently scoff at my lunacy then. Yes, it was incredibly stupid to still keep anything there when I didn't trust the proprietors, but I simply couldn't bring myself to end the account when my childhood experiences said that having one defined me as being a full-fledged witch. Gringotts accepted me with no qualms about my birth, and I continued to appreciate it for that fact.

I hated to admit, though, that it also had no qualms about accepting money from known murderers and criminals like Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Some customs die hard," I replied simply.

He sneered at me, and then entered the bank. He wanted this over and done with. I followed him towards a goblin who didn't seem to be entertaining any clients. He did all the talking because he thought me prone to dilly-dallying, but he didn't know how anything worked here so I shoved him out of the way.

"Excuse me, I'm Hermione Jean Granger, an international client of Gringotts. I'd like to withdraw some of the money I deposited in your New York branch."

I handed him the letter that Gringotts: New York sent me.

"Everything seems to be in order. Please follow me to the back. You'll just have to sign a few documents for your transaction to be completed."

We followed him to a nondescript door I had never seen before at the side of the lobby. When we entered, the goblin who accompanied us gestured for us to sit down. He spoke with the goblin behind the desk in Gobbledegook, which I could only understand a little of.

"Well, Miss Granger," said the other goblin, "I'm sure you know our Terms of Service, but it is protocol for us to reiterate everything before we hand you any gold."

"Alright, please go on then," I replied.

The Gringotts Terms of Service is known to be one of the longest of its kind. I guess the protocol was supposed to deter clients from making the management transfer money overseas, which was truly quite a hassle. The goblin droned on and on until—

"Pardon, what was that you said again?" I asked.

"The bank will deduct 10-20% of the amount you wish to withdraw from your total savings," he repeated.

"Why? I'm not even borrowing any money! I don't understand. I have an international account, which is supposed to make things easier for me."

"I think you misunderstand, Miss. An international Gringotts account is not meant to make things easier; rather its only purpose is to supplement what normal accounts lack. A traditional savings account won't allow you to withdraw money from foreign branches of Gringotts at all, whereas an international account would, albeit for a cost."

"This is ridiculous. Muggle banks make it much easier, and I'm able to get my money practically in any branch around the world, international account or no. And they don't even put in a surcharge."

The goblin was quite furious at my words and actually turned orangey-green in color.

"Miss Granger, as a client of Gringotts Bank, you should be able to appreciate the security of our services," began the goblin. "We do not welcome any comparison with Muggle bankers who are mere amateurs at a trade in which goblins are far superior. While they are troubled with robberies and risk, we here are assured in our survival whatever the social climate is. Furthermore, Muggle bankers are weak thinkers and seem to assume that ease of convenience can make up for lacking precautions. They get their profits from risking their clients' wealth, while we get ours from the deductibles we put into your bank maintenance bill. Muggle banks are in no way in any league near ours.

"Furthermore, it is not the fault of Gringotts Bank that you were unable to fully comprehend our Terms of Service in the first place," he finished grandly.

I was livid at his words. Goblins and wizards were exactly the same. They both thought Muggles were shit for not being able to do magic. This was not the place that welcomed me more than a decade ago; it never was the unprejudiced bastion I thought it to be.

"Yes, you're quite right. I should review your Terms of Service, because I will need to know how to fucking close this useless account and transfer everything to a Muggle bank! _And furthermore_," I mocked his tone, "I think you are quite right when you say goblins are in a league of their own. Muggle bankers are known to be greedy, but they're downright benevolent when compared to the misers who run this place!" My tone became sweet. "Oh, and I'd like to take all the gold in my vault here before I leave, so if you can kindly bring me to my vault now, I'd appreciate it. I'd like very much to end all of my affairs here today."

The ride to my vault was quick. There was no time for any interruptions of reminiscence, and I was too angry in the first place to feel any fond thoughts about the bank anyway.

I picked up the whole pile of money that was in the vault and put all of it in my charmed expandable bag. I returned to the car that carried us in a huff. From the corner of my eye, I could see Ly grinning in satisfaction. The trip back seemed even quicker. After arriving at the lobby, I immediately asked for my vault to be permanently closed. I signed all of the necessary documents in less than five minutes. The gravity of what I had done had not yet set in.

My visit to Gringotts didn't turn out at all the way I expected it to, and I was incredibly surprised that I was able to accomplish in five minutes something that I had been completely incapable of even thinking in four years. I had closed my Gringotts account.

Of course I had to go to New York to close that account separately, since according to the goblins, it was totally different from this one, but the achievement was symbolic and meaningful nonetheless. I had kept that vault in New York, just to keep alive the vault in London. Now that the vault here was closed, I could easily dispose of the one in New York as well. I felt free. I was able to erase another one of the ridiculous wizarding customs I had inherited.

On the way back to the portal, Ly decided he was happy enough at my leaving Gringotts to walk beside me. I had practically forgotten he was there in the bank with me. I bet he felt smug about the whole situation. I bet he was really itching to say "I told you so" now. I immediately started a totally different conversation to take advantage of his good mood.

"How did you get here, by the way?"

Ly seemed to have been taken by surprise at my question from nowhere, but looked at me as if I were so predictable, after a second of getting his composure back.

"Sky taught me the directions to the pub, Leaking Cauldron, I think the name was. But he did forget the combination for the brick wall. I had to wake the barman up for that. He was really nice about it though, which made me feel guilty about the intrusion," his tone became lecturing for the second part of his explanation. "Next time you decide to suddenly escape, please leave me instructions on how to follow you. It would be that much more convenient for me, Sky, and strange barmen in the future."

I rolled my eyes at him. He always made everything out to be my fault. He and Sky really were to blame for this. At that moment, I was inclined to blame Ly more for indulging Sky's paranoia in the first place. True, I knew he was only trying to help Sky, but I didn't like the constant mothering.

"There are two things you've gotten wrong. First, I did not 'escape', as you so accusingly put it. I left both you and Sky a note, telling you that I have errands to run here. That was supposed to be enough to appease your curiosities and controlling tendencies. A runaway wouldn't have been so concerned about you to leave you anything," I said matter-of-factly.

"Second, if I did decide to escape your clutches for a while, I wouldn't leave you any hint as to where I could be. I would delight in the fact that you would be completely frustrated and tired just looking for me, making my escape all the more sweet. It's too bad, then, for your hopes of detailed instructions."

He sighed. "He just cares, you know."

"I know he does, but caring doesn't mean smothering me. I'm an independent person, strong and smart enough to not be treated like I'm six years old. I don't need a bodyguard!"

"I'm not your bodyguard. I'm just acting the way an older brother would," I looked at him skeptically. "Whatever, it's never really any use talking with you. Let's just go back to the hotel so Sky can finally let himself relax."

"No, we're not going back yet," I replied simply. "You'll be going, while I'll be staying at the Leaky Cauldron for a while."

"Well, that's not a problem. I'm really hungry now, since I missed lunch because of Sky's incessant worrying. We'll both grab a bite to eat, and then go."

I was grinding my teeth now. "You don't understand," I emphasized. "I'm going to meet some people. In private. Alone. Not with you."

"In that case, I'll eat while watching you have your private conversation with whomever it is you'll be having your private conversation," he said meaningfully.

"I really don't appreciate your staying for my reunion with my best friends. If you please, just go back alone."

"Hermione, as much as I'd like to go back now, Sky would kill me if I didn't bring you along. I have to stay. I promise I won't interrupt. I know how much this means to you, and you'd barely even notice me there. You can stay at the private booths while I sit at the bar. Don't make this hard for either of us. Please."

"…Fine. Just stay quiet and eat at the bar."

We proceeded to the Leaky Cauldron in a quiet truce. He went straight to the bar, where I assumed he ordered himself a big dinner to make up for his missing lunch, while I walked towards the fireplace.

It was a quarter to five, just in time to make a call to Harry's office. I readied myself with a big breath and threw in the powder. "Harry Potter's office, Auror Headquarters!" I called, and then forced my head into the green flames.

My head was getting dizzy with all the fireplaces I was seeing. I've always hated Floo calling, but came to loathe it more after trying to make a call to London while I was in Silicon Valley. When I did that, I was feeling terribly homesick and just had to see Harry and Ron.

It was a big mistake.

I retched repeatedly after the experience because of the most intense jetlag ever. My body was in a completely different time zone from the one my head was in. My pineal gland was exposed to a new world time, so it adjusted my body clock accordingly, but my body was staying at the previous time and couldn't understand the new instructions. Well, that was how I understood the phenomenon, at least. The disorder lasted three wretched days, with my body begging for sleep when my head was fully alert and active, and vice versa.

My head finally arrived at Harry's office. He didn't seem to be there though, so I waited a while. The door then opened, and without waiting for a second, I leapt up.

"Harry!" I shouted in my excitement.

"Potter, you've got a Floo call. Don't know who it is though. She doesn't sound familiar," said the stranger's voice.

I tried to turn my face so I was even more obscured. I couldn't let the stranger see me before my best friends did. The door swung open again and I could feel Harry's comforting presence. I felt at home.

"Harry!" I said breathlessly.

He shook his head, I think maybe at the improbability of my actually being here. His voice was tentative when he asked, "Who is it?"

"Your best friend!"

Harry raced from the door and dropped to his knees in front of the fire. "Merlin, Hermione!" Harry almost reached out to touch the flames.

"Shh, don't be so loud, Harry. I don't want other people to know I'm here." I looked up at his still-shocked face.

"Of course, sorry. But Hermione, I'm just… You're here. I can feel you in the room, and I know it's you, but I just want to hug you to be sure. I, Hermione…"

"Harry, I'm here. Really, I am!" I said happily.

"Yeah, you are," Harry replied smilingly, but his tone was sad. "But it'll take you probably another year to try this again. Long-distance Floo is dangerous. I shouldn't even allow you to try it." He was scolding himself, mumbling a bit. Then his eyes lit up again. "Shit! Does Ron know you're here? Just wait a sec, I'll–"

"Harry," I intoned seriously. He looked at me, waiting. He was expecting me to go already, I could see it. He thought I was leaving.

"I'm back, I'm at the Leaky Cauldron! Call Ron! I'll be waiting for you both in one of the private parlors. I'm really here." I smiled the biggest grin I could muster.

Then I saw the most beautiful green eyes beam at me. He rushed back to the door immediately. "Bloody hell! Now I really do need to call Ron! He's going to kill you, you know, for talking to me first."

"I'll deal with him," I said, laughing aloud at the thought of Ron giving both Harry and me a hard time.

He turned the knob, and I was about to go as well, but then his hand fell to his side. His back was still turned when he said, "Hermione, I'm really happy you're back." The door swung shut. He had already left the office.

I felt terrible for making Harry sound like that. He was happy, I was sure. However, the pain in his voice hinted at his feeling of abandonment. More than anyone, I knew how he felt about being abandoned. I was the one he had expected to stay... but I didn't.

I removed my head from the fire. Brushing off soot, I headed for the parlor I had reserved. I sat, weighed down by the profound sadness that I had brought to the boy who had suffered more than anyone I knew.

I remembered his smile and shining green eyes. He had forgiven me for everything, I knew this. But still, I had to make amends. My short call made me realize what I had left behind. This was my home. I couldn't let things cloud over my happiness here anymore, and I wouldn't let it. I was certain.

* * *

A/N: Thanks again to my beta, Mystical Spirits! You are the nicest beta ever!


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